Wraped
by Fansquee
Summary: “You do know… this means war?” Came his voice, muffled from the new chocolate she saw him shove into his mouth as he spoke.


**Title:** Wrapped

**Author****: ** Fansquee

**Fandom:** Firefly

**Characters:** Wash/Zoe

**Word Count:** 1,087

**Rating:** PG

**Summary:** "You do know… this means war?" Came his voice, muffled from the new chocolate she saw him shove into his mouth as he spoke.

**Notes:** Written for sugarfey because she needed motivation. And also for my parents, because they started it.

Sitting at the co-pilots consol working on the budget for their flight to one of the many border planets, Zoë ignored the many chocolate wrappers that littered the console and her work area.

They were still planet-side and while the rest of the crew were taking a break from their usual crime doing, she took the opportunity to keep their bookkeeping up to date as best as she could without raising Alliance suspicions when they were looked over.

Suddenly, almost appearing from the artificial air itself, a brown and gold wrapper wad hurtled downward to land with a dull-like 'tink' on the second scanner on the equipment. Looking up, and to her left, Zoë caught Wash looking at her with a look of innocence.

Innocent, that was, if his mouth wasn't currently stuffed with chocolate which he'd found stashed somewhere. And by the speed he was devouring them; they weren't stale enough to make oneself sick before overindulging.

Giving him a look, Zoë simply went back to her writings and was undisturbed until a wrapper landed into her hair and seemed to hover on her tight curls. Again she gave her husband a hard stare that would have made ice melt, but Wash simply pointed to one of his dinosaurs as the culprit of the massive wrapper assault on her tempoary workstation.

Sighing, she again went back to her work, but decided to change tactics. She picked a recent eaten peppermint chocolate wrapper from her own stash and tossed it lightly, without looking, and naturally hit him on the forehead.

"You do know… this means war?" Came his voice, muffled from the new chocolate she saw him shove into his mouth as he spoke.

"Only war you'll be getting is with the sheets to the spare bunk if you keep it up." She deadpanned.

Wash simply smiled at her empty threat.

With that the flying wrappers continued, but instead of threatening to kick him where the sun didn't shine, Zoë merely tossed them back and, at one point managed to peg two wrappers and took a dino down. Knowing that if she didn't get the paperwork out of the way, Mal would want a damn good reason for it not being completed when she had a good day and a half to finish what was really twenty minutes of easy work. And Zoë knew that dealing with a husband who was currently on dangerous levels of a sugar high wasn't going to cut it, so she again tried to ignore Wash and not encourage him by throwing wrappers. Restraining herself to the solider she was.

And just as suddenly as it started… it stopped.

Decided he was digging for more chocolates to aid with the spontaneous but inevitable diabetic coma, Zoë continued with her rough maths and paid him no mind for the time being. It was when she felt a certain presence seeming to hover over her paperwork that she looked up, and saw her husband watching her upside down workings.

"You're not getting it right because you forgot to carry the one."

"Haven't you got a helm to fix and chocolate to devour?"

"Helms fixed and I ran out of chocolate."

Zoë blinked. "You ate the entire bag of Maltesers? How many were in there?"

"Over 32," Wash answered as he licked a finger with some leftover chocolate.

"The whole bag?" she asked, just to clarify.

"Just about, yeah," his reply was matter-of-factly and she noticed that he was beginning to eye off her own bag of mostly full chocolates.

"No." Was Zoë's simple answer to his silent, but loud, plea.

"But, I've run out… and the withdrawal and shakes are setting in," her husband said, waving his hand in a swirly dramatic fashion. "You don't want a shaking pilot when taking off… it's a fundamental fact."

"Shouldn't have eaten _my_ entire bag of chocolates." She deadpanned back, getting back to work (and carrying the one).

"You wouldn't give mine, which you are currently enjoying, up." Wash retorted.

"I would have given them back if you hadn't decided to litter the cockpit with wrappers."

"So…" Wash drawled quietly, for the first time taking his mess in, "what you're saying is that if I clean my mess, I'll get the bag back."

"Not a chance in frozen hell."

"This ship was almost a frozen hell, remember? Well, no, because you were unconscious and all."

"You ain't getting them back."

"I'll buy you another pack at the next stop." His voice had started to take on a decidedly pleading tone. "And you can have my ration of coffee when it runs out."

Zoë actually considered it, but decided she was going to convert to tea… until her own chocolates were replenished. "Tempting, but no."

Wash's shoulders visibly slumped and he went to his own chair to sulk. A quick glance told her that her husband was far from throwing the towel in with this losing battle. Then his face brightened and he clicked his fingers before pointing at her.

"Sex!" He challenged triumphantly.

"Sex?" she replied unconvinced.

"I'll do the womanly thing and withhold sex."

"Uh huh," she leaned forward and a smiled played at her lips, "this coming from the man who once threatened to take the ship and go to the other side of the verse after 4 days of not getting any?"

He waved it off. "In my defence we'd only been married 3 weeks."

"Hmm, I can go for longer." Zoë continued. "I've got inventory to count, guns to clean. I can make the most basic chores into the most arduous of tasks while you sit in that pretty chair with your toys."

Wash seemed to swear under his breath as his options disappeared in front of his very eyes. He gave her a semi-desperate look from under his long blond eyelashes.

"Ok… can I negotiate this?" He asked after a few minutes of silence.

"This ain't a hostage situation ,Wash." Zoë replied plainly.

"It is to me!"

"Listen, husband," Zoë said matter-of-factly, "you had what? The opportunity to give the bag back without any consequence whatsoever."

"But, but…" Wash tried feebly

"No 'buts'. These are mine."

And with that she took a bite, letting the lush, almost overpowering, taste fill her mouth with chocolaty pleasure. Wash couldn't watch and turned away as she purposely at each and every piece with an aching slowness.

Revenge was sweet; especially when you had an almost unlimited supply of your husbands' favourite chocolate at your disposal.


End file.
